


Dancing With Air

by clovernose



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Dancing, M/M, gay dancers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 01:45:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2132466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clovernose/pseuds/clovernose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk Strider is a big fish in a little pond, but how will he measure up to John Egbert when he moves from homeschooling and private dance lessons in Houston to Cruxite Boarding School, with it's prestigious dance program, in Seattle?</p><p>-- Gameless AU in which Dirk and John are the same age. Have some guardian!Dave, too. Other characters are pending --</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing With Air

**Author's Note:**

> OK so basically this is a re-write of this (http://archiveofourown.org/works/769689)
> 
> hopefully with any luck and the grace of god this time it WILL become multichapter but who knows really with my schedule
> 
> anyway enjoy!

Movement, you were always taught, was fleeting. Movement was fleeting, and that was all the more reason to give it meaning: to make it last. To make an impression.

The way he moved was unlike anything you'd ever seen before. He could be described as a wisp of air, a strand of breeze set apart from the gust. He stood alone among all others in the room. His movements seemed electrocuted and alive, precisely and yet somehow sporadically conducted. He moved as though his life depended on it.

The slender outline of his waist moving upwards to his chest, flaring out in some beautiful, breathy, lithe plume of bone and flesh, covered just well enough by the thin material of his leotard. Porcelain skin caught every ray of sun streaming in through the windows behind him. Within the depths of dark, twisting hair lay blue eyes, vibrant and shining. They catch you. Draw you in.

Of all the people in the studio, John Egbert was clearly the force to be reckoned with.

 

After a short wait of about fifteen minutes or so, Mr. Dave Strider and his younger brother found themselves sitting in front of the principal of Cruxite Boarding School, home of the Cruxite Knights. He looked over the two blonds sitting before him as he read through the younger Strider's file, looking almost unimpressed. Dave spoke up.

"As you can see, we have… unique circumstances." The principal took off his glasses.

"Yes, I figured as much. Want to be closer to big brother, eh?" A smile cracked on the man's old face as he looked over to Dirk, who could only fudge a smile and nod. Dave reached over and gave Dirk's shoulder a squeeze.

"So, Principal C," Dave said almost nonchalantly, in that cool way he always did, "How's he check out? Think you could make room for one more dance prodigy?"

 

Even though you knew this had been bound to happen, there was some initial shock when Bro spoke up that Christmas day.

"There's a boarding school in Seattle that looks pretty sweet." He had said as he read through the website's somewhat intimidatingly formal content. The older blond turned to face you. "That's closer to Hollywood than Houston is." You'd given him a level look from behind your shades.

"Listen, lil bro, I just want what's best for you. The dance program is fuckin' incredible. You can't tell me you won't like that… Plus, imagine how good it'll be for your career." Your brother spun to face you in his computer chair, his expression unamused. "And, you'll get to see your rich and famous brother more often. Can't blame you for jumping for joy over there." 

You, perched on his bed, shrugged.

"It's not that it doesn't sound nice, okay?" You had said, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice. "I just… Like how things are. I like it here."

"I'll set up an interview for you. Just one. And if you don't like it, that's perfectly fine." He was already typing a text message to someone, probably some guy he knew in high school. You rubbed the bridge of your nose. "At least try it."

 

That was how it began.

Maybe your inhibitions were weakened from the unusual and almost foreign presence of Bro, because it wasn't very ordinary of you to put up with things you don't like; as a matter of fact, it was about as ordinary as Bro actually showing his face. Maybe it was because he had woken you up to tell you that you were probably moving schools -- because Dave Strider's will could put the whole country in a chokehold, and that didn't exclude you.

Before you'd known it, your old life had been snatched from right under your nose and replaced with a chloroform napkin. And when you finally came to, you were at Cruxite Boarding School once more. Except, this time, you were sitting in a history class, about half a week into the school year.

As your initial shock and anger aimed somewhere between yourself and Bro ebbed away into annoyance at your situation, you realized that someone in front of you had turned around to ask you a question.

"Hey, uh, do you have a pencil?"

You look at him carefully, until you realize that it was him. That one guy, from the dance studio when you had toured it upon the day of your interview. Even though you had seen him in some of your other classes so far, that image sticks in your mind. You blink the memory away.

"Oh, yeah, sorry." You rummage through your things, quickly delivering the desired utensil to the bucktoothed kid in front of him. You hadn't noticed that before. It was… Endearing.

"Thanks!"

 

"Hey!" You turn back to see him pressing forward, towards you in the crowd of students filtering in and out of the classrooms. You wind up towards the side of the hall, set aside from the stream of your peers as the kid finally catches up to you.

"Ah, uh, hey," He cracks a smile at you as he reaches safety, looking over his shoulder briefly. "It's a jungle, huh?" 

"That's putting it lightly." You say, amusement in your voice.

"I'll say!" He replies, rather exuberantly. It almost catches you off guard. "You have ballet next, right?"

"Yeah, and so do you." You quickly realize how odd that sounds… as if you'd been paying attention to his schedule. No, you were just observant. You rush to correct yourself. "Er, right?"

"I do! Good eye." He gives you a smirk as he begins to pad towards the now-less-dense flow of students. "Wanna walk?"

You don't reply, but you do follow him. He doesn't seem to mind your silence, and quickly fills it with whatever seems to come to his mind.

You like him already.


End file.
